Walk on By - part XIV
WALK ON BY - XIV
Author: Lottie Lenya
Type: RPS
Pairing: VM/OB
Rating: R (Finally)…
Category: AU
Disclaimer: This is fiction, not based in reality - to the best of my knowledge Viggo Mortensen has never lived rough and Orlando Bloom was never part of the Constabulary.
Beta: Ana, the cream in my coffee, the soul of a soulless world.
A/N. This chapter is for two of my partners in crime in another world, Oktober and Polanthie - dunno if you’ll read this ladies but you’ve made an old man very happy over the past few weeks *sporfles and falls to the floor*
"Ughhhh." Orlando lifted his head from the pillow and blearily contemplated the sight of Viggo, standing in front of him, a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and a plate of hot toast in the other.
"Eat some of this and I'll get you the painkillers."
"Oh god, we lost didn't we?" Orlando buried his head beneath the duvet. Then poked it out again. "We lost to Liverpool didn't we?”
"Yes," replied Viggo briskly. "Melling scored in the 80th minute and the Cap went mad."
Orlando raised an eyebrow. "I think you mean Mellor scored in the 90th minute and it was the Kop who went mad. Fuck, I think I've died and gone to hell. Me mouth is like the bottom of a budgie cage."
He took a swig of tea and bit into a piece of toast.
"Don't think I'll get up today, mate. Am gonna stay here and sleep."
Revenge always tastes sweet when it's served a la mode Viggo mused to himself.
"Um, sorry, Orlando, but you're doing Gary's life class today, so you better think about getting up."
Orlando's face was a picture. "Fucking bollocks and buggering, cunting hell. And you can take that shit eating grin off your face."
Viggo couldn't help but flinch at the tone, even though he knew that Orlando was joking. Orlando put his tea and toast down, got out of bed regardless of his nakedness and wrapped Viggo up in a hug, holding him close and running a soothing hand over his back.
"Sorry, babe, I didn't mean to put the wind up you. I was only messing."
Viggo was in heaven; he leaned into Orlando's embrace and let himself go boneless. Orlando guided him to the bed, pushing him down and lying down next to him. He slowly but deliberately ghosted soft kisses over Viggo's mouth. When he felt the lips part very slightly, he pushed his tongue into the wetness and discovered heaven on earth. Underneath the slight tang of the drugs he was taking, Orlando could taste Viggo, and as his tongue danced around the other man's mouth, he mused that this was a taste he could so easily become addicted to. He let his hands roam Viggo's body, finding skin that was softer than he'd imagined it and a willingness to be touched that was overwhelming. Urging Viggo to sit up, he pulled the t-shirt over his head, pushing him down returned to kissing him, caressing his nipples into hardness. Underneath him, Viggo was squirming, it was years since anyone had actually made love to him and with a start he realised. It was the night Tina had caught him. He froze, remembering the sensations and then the cold shower of humiliation…
Orlando sensed the moment that Viggo’s mind turned. Lifting his head, he looked into the pale blue eyes that were, as he expected, swimming with tears.
“Had enough babe?” he enquired, gently rubbing Viggo’s chest. “We can stop right now, you know, there’s no pressure.”
Viggo turned into Orlando’s embrace and clung to him tightly, trying not to panic. Despite all the emotion, his cock was hard and he couldn’t help rubbing his groin against Orlando’s leg, wanting the friction. Catching on, Orlando rubbed him through the cotton of his boxers.
“Take the pants off, babe, I wanna feel you.”
Realising that Orlando was referring to his underwear, Viggo wriggled out of the shorts and lay back waiting, half impatient, half scared.
“For god’s sake babe, you’re not a fucking sacrifice, loosen up a little.” Orlando grinned at him and, bending over, blew a loud raspberry on Viggo’s belly. “That’s better…” His grin faded as taking Viggo’s cock in hand he resumed their kiss, fisting the hard shaft and giving the head a nifty twist that had Viggo moaning into Orlando’s mouth. He had just rolled on top of Viggo, groaning in his turn when his own cock brushed against Viggo’s when the phone rang.
“Bollocking fucking shite!” Rolling off Viggo, he grabbed the phone. “Yeah…”
“….”
“Fuck off you knob, I hadn’t forgotten."
“….”
“No way mate, am not showered yet.”
“…...”
“Don’t fucking joke about it, that Scouse cunt scored in the 90th minute….”
“….”
“Ha fucking ha, cunt breath, very amusing. Yeah, we’ll be there in about an hour.”
“….”
“Same to you, and Gary, no legs akimbo poses, the boss doesn’t fancy ‘em turning up on the internet…”
Replacing the phone, he leant over Viggo once more and gently kissed him. We’ll continue this another time, babe.” Hurling himself off the bed, he headed out towards the bathroom calling aback over his shoulder. “Unless you want to scrub my back…”
An hour and a half later, Gary was offering them both a cup of rather revolting instant coffee and a rich tea biscuit.
“Viggo, welcome to the Chelsea Arts Appreciation Gay Life Class.” Grinning at Viggo, who looked a bit nervous, he continued. “Now I appreciate you are going to be bored to death while we paint your pretty boy here, so I have a little task for you too.”
“Oi, Gaz, you big fairy, it better not involve him taking his clothes off.”
“Steady on Orli-kins, I never…”
Here he stopped as he found his personal space invaded by a man who looked dangerously calm.
“Don’t you ever, I repeat ever, fucking well call me Orli or you and I are gonna fall out. Permanently.”
Viggo stepped forward and quietly laid a hand on Orlando’s shoulder. For a moment he was terrified, he could feel the rage that seemed to have engulfed the normally sunny tempered man. Even when Orlando had lost his rag all those months ago, Viggo hadn’t sensed this anger. It chilled him.
Breathing deeply, the gentle touch on his shoulder calmed him. The whole room had gone quiet and the would-be artists were looking at him, wondering what fresh drama had occurred. Closing his eyes, Orlando banished the pictures the harmless nick name conjured and got a grip on himself.
“So what do you want Vig to do then, mate?”
Not noticeably concerned, Gary brought out a slightly above middle of the range camera and handed it to Viggo.
“Kensington & Chelsea Council are holding an exhibition of photographs entitled “Watching” and I though it’d be a jolly wheeze if your man here took some photos of us looking at you. What d’you reckon?”
Orlando smiled at Viggo who was holding the camera with a slightly bemused expression on his face.
“Go on Viggo, it’s dead easy to use, love, you’ll take a few snaps for us, won’t you?”
Viggo wasn’t listening, he was looking at the camera, gently stroking the lens with one finger; the expression on his face was heartbreaking…
“Yes,” he whispered, “I can take a few ‘snaps’ for you…”
“Right, Lando, it’s that time again. Get you kit off and then come and discuss the pose with Edmund here…”
A rather elderly, rather camp gentleman wandered over and begun to fuss over the light and the conditions. When Orlando came out, clad in a paisley dressing gown, which elicited a low whistle from Gary and a smothered giggle from Viggo, Edmund begun to arrange the pose while the rest of the class set up easels, setting their stations up, waiting for Orlando to disrobe.
In the end and despite Gary’s threats, the pose wasn’t explicit. Orlando sat on a low stool, his back to the class, looking slightly to his left so that they could capture his profile. The beauty of the man stunned Viggo. His skin was perfect, not a blemish in sight until he realised that Orlando had a small scar at the bottom of his spine; it wasn’t obvious but once you noticed it, you found your eye drawn to it.
The class settled down to sketching. Viggo was impressed by how seriously they all took it. He wandered around taking a few shots, watching Orlando who had more or less dropped straight off to sleep and, true to his word, was not snoring. Taking a piece of paper out of the bin, Viggo sketched his own version of the pose, in a very few pencil strokes he managed to capture the essence of the man. Quietly tucking the piece of paper away, he continued taking photographs whilst Orlando slept.
Gary was just about to call a break when someone’s mobile went off. Edmund pursed his lips disapprovingly.
“I thought we’d banned mobile telephones from our classes, Gary. Really, it just breaks the concentration and….”
He stopped as he realised it was Orlando’s phone that had gone off and judging by his words and tone, it was serious.
“Okay ‘guv. Yeah, I can be there in about 20.”
“….”
“He what? Oh fuck, no….”
“…..”
“Jesus Christ, sir, you know what this means don’t you?”
“……”
“Will do. ‘Kay.”
Orlando shut off his phone and addressed the room at large.
“Sorry guys, I have to go.”
His tone brooked no argument and not even Gary demurred when Orlando slipped out of the room to get his clothes on.
Coming back into the room, he marched up to Viggo and gave him a £20 note.
“Vig, I want you to get a cab straight home, you understand? I don’t want you hanging around or going to the pub. There will be no messing, mate, have you got that?”
It was the ‘mate’ that made Viggo see red. However, he meekly agreed to Orlando’s demands and watched as the other man hurried from the room; the weight of the world apparently on his shoulder.
When he’d gone, Viggo turned to Gary.
“May I borrow the camera for a couple of days?”
“Sure Viggo, go ahead, love. You can drop it in at the surgery when you’ve finished with it. Now do you want me to come out with you, or will you be okay on your own?”
“I think I can manage to hail a cab without you holding my hand, thank you.” Viggo smiled but there was a slightly pissed off note in his voice.
Gary held up his hands and grinned.
“Point taken, love.”
Leaning over he kissed Viggo’s cheek.
“Safe home, love and see you soon, yeah?”
Viggo said his good byes and headed out into the street. He had no intention of going home just yet.
~ ~ ~
When Orlando arrived at the station, Bicknall was pacing up and down the incident room.
“Right D S Bloom, we have a murdered man on our hands, he was found, throat slit, in a gutter off Wardour Street and he bears a startling resemblance to your Vic Moreton…”
Orlando’s blood ran cold. Surely this was a mistake.
“All the signs are this was an Eastern European Mafia type execution, neatly done, hands tied behind his back, plenty of bruising which indicates a damn good kicking first.”
He glanced at his D S who appeared to have been struck dumb.
“Get yourself along to the morgue and take a dekko, it really is uncanny… I suggest you keep our informant well out of the way of public scrutiny, Flower. It seems to me the bloke is in danger….”
~ ~ ~
When Orlando wearily entered the flat some hours later, he was exhausted and frankly worried. The dead man had indeed looked very like Viggo; at least like Viggo had looked before he’d been cleaned up and begun eating more. Orlando had realised with stunning clarity that the man who he was, if only he could admit it, falling in love with, was in grave danger.
And where was he. The flat was empty; clearly no one had been in since they’d both gone out some hours later. Orlando checked and double checked, even going as far as to look under the bed, even though he knew it was ridiculous.
Whichever way you sliced it or diced it, Viggo was missing.
TBC
Author: Lottie Lenya
Type: RPS
Pairing: VM/OB
Rating: R (Finally)…
Category: AU
Disclaimer: This is fiction, not based in reality - to the best of my knowledge Viggo Mortensen has never lived rough and Orlando Bloom was never part of the Constabulary.
Beta: Ana, the cream in my coffee, the soul of a soulless world.
A/N. This chapter is for two of my partners in crime in another world, Oktober and Polanthie - dunno if you’ll read this ladies but you’ve made an old man very happy over the past few weeks *sporfles and falls to the floor*
"Ughhhh." Orlando lifted his head from the pillow and blearily contemplated the sight of Viggo, standing in front of him, a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and a plate of hot toast in the other.
"Eat some of this and I'll get you the painkillers."
"Oh god, we lost didn't we?" Orlando buried his head beneath the duvet. Then poked it out again. "We lost to Liverpool didn't we?”
"Yes," replied Viggo briskly. "Melling scored in the 80th minute and the Cap went mad."
Orlando raised an eyebrow. "I think you mean Mellor scored in the 90th minute and it was the Kop who went mad. Fuck, I think I've died and gone to hell. Me mouth is like the bottom of a budgie cage."
He took a swig of tea and bit into a piece of toast.
"Don't think I'll get up today, mate. Am gonna stay here and sleep."
Revenge always tastes sweet when it's served a la mode Viggo mused to himself.
"Um, sorry, Orlando, but you're doing Gary's life class today, so you better think about getting up."
Orlando's face was a picture. "Fucking bollocks and buggering, cunting hell. And you can take that shit eating grin off your face."
Viggo couldn't help but flinch at the tone, even though he knew that Orlando was joking. Orlando put his tea and toast down, got out of bed regardless of his nakedness and wrapped Viggo up in a hug, holding him close and running a soothing hand over his back.
"Sorry, babe, I didn't mean to put the wind up you. I was only messing."
Viggo was in heaven; he leaned into Orlando's embrace and let himself go boneless. Orlando guided him to the bed, pushing him down and lying down next to him. He slowly but deliberately ghosted soft kisses over Viggo's mouth. When he felt the lips part very slightly, he pushed his tongue into the wetness and discovered heaven on earth. Underneath the slight tang of the drugs he was taking, Orlando could taste Viggo, and as his tongue danced around the other man's mouth, he mused that this was a taste he could so easily become addicted to. He let his hands roam Viggo's body, finding skin that was softer than he'd imagined it and a willingness to be touched that was overwhelming. Urging Viggo to sit up, he pulled the t-shirt over his head, pushing him down returned to kissing him, caressing his nipples into hardness. Underneath him, Viggo was squirming, it was years since anyone had actually made love to him and with a start he realised. It was the night Tina had caught him. He froze, remembering the sensations and then the cold shower of humiliation…
Orlando sensed the moment that Viggo’s mind turned. Lifting his head, he looked into the pale blue eyes that were, as he expected, swimming with tears.
“Had enough babe?” he enquired, gently rubbing Viggo’s chest. “We can stop right now, you know, there’s no pressure.”
Viggo turned into Orlando’s embrace and clung to him tightly, trying not to panic. Despite all the emotion, his cock was hard and he couldn’t help rubbing his groin against Orlando’s leg, wanting the friction. Catching on, Orlando rubbed him through the cotton of his boxers.
“Take the pants off, babe, I wanna feel you.”
Realising that Orlando was referring to his underwear, Viggo wriggled out of the shorts and lay back waiting, half impatient, half scared.
“For god’s sake babe, you’re not a fucking sacrifice, loosen up a little.” Orlando grinned at him and, bending over, blew a loud raspberry on Viggo’s belly. “That’s better…” His grin faded as taking Viggo’s cock in hand he resumed their kiss, fisting the hard shaft and giving the head a nifty twist that had Viggo moaning into Orlando’s mouth. He had just rolled on top of Viggo, groaning in his turn when his own cock brushed against Viggo’s when the phone rang.
“Bollocking fucking shite!” Rolling off Viggo, he grabbed the phone. “Yeah…”
“….”
“Fuck off you knob, I hadn’t forgotten."
“….”
“No way mate, am not showered yet.”
“…...”
“Don’t fucking joke about it, that Scouse cunt scored in the 90th minute….”
“….”
“Ha fucking ha, cunt breath, very amusing. Yeah, we’ll be there in about an hour.”
“….”
“Same to you, and Gary, no legs akimbo poses, the boss doesn’t fancy ‘em turning up on the internet…”
Replacing the phone, he leant over Viggo once more and gently kissed him. We’ll continue this another time, babe.” Hurling himself off the bed, he headed out towards the bathroom calling aback over his shoulder. “Unless you want to scrub my back…”
An hour and a half later, Gary was offering them both a cup of rather revolting instant coffee and a rich tea biscuit.
“Viggo, welcome to the Chelsea Arts Appreciation Gay Life Class.” Grinning at Viggo, who looked a bit nervous, he continued. “Now I appreciate you are going to be bored to death while we paint your pretty boy here, so I have a little task for you too.”
“Oi, Gaz, you big fairy, it better not involve him taking his clothes off.”
“Steady on Orli-kins, I never…”
Here he stopped as he found his personal space invaded by a man who looked dangerously calm.
“Don’t you ever, I repeat ever, fucking well call me Orli or you and I are gonna fall out. Permanently.”
Viggo stepped forward and quietly laid a hand on Orlando’s shoulder. For a moment he was terrified, he could feel the rage that seemed to have engulfed the normally sunny tempered man. Even when Orlando had lost his rag all those months ago, Viggo hadn’t sensed this anger. It chilled him.
Breathing deeply, the gentle touch on his shoulder calmed him. The whole room had gone quiet and the would-be artists were looking at him, wondering what fresh drama had occurred. Closing his eyes, Orlando banished the pictures the harmless nick name conjured and got a grip on himself.
“So what do you want Vig to do then, mate?”
Not noticeably concerned, Gary brought out a slightly above middle of the range camera and handed it to Viggo.
“Kensington & Chelsea Council are holding an exhibition of photographs entitled “Watching” and I though it’d be a jolly wheeze if your man here took some photos of us looking at you. What d’you reckon?”
Orlando smiled at Viggo who was holding the camera with a slightly bemused expression on his face.
“Go on Viggo, it’s dead easy to use, love, you’ll take a few snaps for us, won’t you?”
Viggo wasn’t listening, he was looking at the camera, gently stroking the lens with one finger; the expression on his face was heartbreaking…
“Yes,” he whispered, “I can take a few ‘snaps’ for you…”
“Right, Lando, it’s that time again. Get you kit off and then come and discuss the pose with Edmund here…”
A rather elderly, rather camp gentleman wandered over and begun to fuss over the light and the conditions. When Orlando came out, clad in a paisley dressing gown, which elicited a low whistle from Gary and a smothered giggle from Viggo, Edmund begun to arrange the pose while the rest of the class set up easels, setting their stations up, waiting for Orlando to disrobe.
In the end and despite Gary’s threats, the pose wasn’t explicit. Orlando sat on a low stool, his back to the class, looking slightly to his left so that they could capture his profile. The beauty of the man stunned Viggo. His skin was perfect, not a blemish in sight until he realised that Orlando had a small scar at the bottom of his spine; it wasn’t obvious but once you noticed it, you found your eye drawn to it.
The class settled down to sketching. Viggo was impressed by how seriously they all took it. He wandered around taking a few shots, watching Orlando who had more or less dropped straight off to sleep and, true to his word, was not snoring. Taking a piece of paper out of the bin, Viggo sketched his own version of the pose, in a very few pencil strokes he managed to capture the essence of the man. Quietly tucking the piece of paper away, he continued taking photographs whilst Orlando slept.
Gary was just about to call a break when someone’s mobile went off. Edmund pursed his lips disapprovingly.
“I thought we’d banned mobile telephones from our classes, Gary. Really, it just breaks the concentration and….”
He stopped as he realised it was Orlando’s phone that had gone off and judging by his words and tone, it was serious.
“Okay ‘guv. Yeah, I can be there in about 20.”
“….”
“He what? Oh fuck, no….”
“…..”
“Jesus Christ, sir, you know what this means don’t you?”
“……”
“Will do. ‘Kay.”
Orlando shut off his phone and addressed the room at large.
“Sorry guys, I have to go.”
His tone brooked no argument and not even Gary demurred when Orlando slipped out of the room to get his clothes on.
Coming back into the room, he marched up to Viggo and gave him a £20 note.
“Vig, I want you to get a cab straight home, you understand? I don’t want you hanging around or going to the pub. There will be no messing, mate, have you got that?”
It was the ‘mate’ that made Viggo see red. However, he meekly agreed to Orlando’s demands and watched as the other man hurried from the room; the weight of the world apparently on his shoulder.
When he’d gone, Viggo turned to Gary.
“May I borrow the camera for a couple of days?”
“Sure Viggo, go ahead, love. You can drop it in at the surgery when you’ve finished with it. Now do you want me to come out with you, or will you be okay on your own?”
“I think I can manage to hail a cab without you holding my hand, thank you.” Viggo smiled but there was a slightly pissed off note in his voice.
Gary held up his hands and grinned.
“Point taken, love.”
Leaning over he kissed Viggo’s cheek.
“Safe home, love and see you soon, yeah?”
Viggo said his good byes and headed out into the street. He had no intention of going home just yet.
~ ~ ~
When Orlando arrived at the station, Bicknall was pacing up and down the incident room.
“Right D S Bloom, we have a murdered man on our hands, he was found, throat slit, in a gutter off Wardour Street and he bears a startling resemblance to your Vic Moreton…”
Orlando’s blood ran cold. Surely this was a mistake.
“All the signs are this was an Eastern European Mafia type execution, neatly done, hands tied behind his back, plenty of bruising which indicates a damn good kicking first.”
He glanced at his D S who appeared to have been struck dumb.
“Get yourself along to the morgue and take a dekko, it really is uncanny… I suggest you keep our informant well out of the way of public scrutiny, Flower. It seems to me the bloke is in danger….”
~ ~ ~
When Orlando wearily entered the flat some hours later, he was exhausted and frankly worried. The dead man had indeed looked very like Viggo; at least like Viggo had looked before he’d been cleaned up and begun eating more. Orlando had realised with stunning clarity that the man who he was, if only he could admit it, falling in love with, was in grave danger.
And where was he. The flat was empty; clearly no one had been in since they’d both gone out some hours later. Orlando checked and double checked, even going as far as to look under the bed, even though he knew it was ridiculous.
Whichever way you sliced it or diced it, Viggo was missing.
TBC